I know what will happen now, remember the leather pouch Reed gave his bird when I sat caged in the Barrel. He sent a message with his falcon that day, using the short codes the Oracle told me about. If Reed sends Rune to Bedrock with a message now, an army will descend on Harlie’s Hope.

“Asher!” I shout, pointing. The falcon is soaring for Reed, who has his arm outstretched, waiting for the bird to land.

Asher drops the file he’s been using to sharpen a handsaw. Standing quickly, he draws his slingshot from the back of his pants, winds up, and lets a rock fly. It slices through the air like a bullet, clipping the bird. The falcon plummets, one wing flapping, desperate, the other hanging useless as it falls. It hits the dry earth with a thud.

Reed bolts upright, shouting the bird’s name as I sprint for it.

One wing is broken, bent at a wrong angle, and Rune flails the other, turning in circles in the dirt. Working quickly, I use my knife to cut a length of braided hair from my head and tie the falcon’s legs together. It nips and snaps at me, but is too disoriented to do any real damage. Once I’ve tied a second knot for good measure, I stand, holding the braid out by the end, with the falcon hanging an arm’s length before me. She twists on the line, her injured wing grazing the ground.

“Easy there, boy,” Harlie says to Reed. She’s got her rifle aimed at him and he’s got his aimed back. “You might shoot me, but my friend’s got a knife, and he’ll lodge it in your chest before you can reload.” Asher has my Old World blade held out, the slingshot dropped at his feet, useless until he finds another stone for it.

Reed looks between them, anxious; then his eyes flick to me. Rune chirps pitifully as she dangles. I lower the falcon to the ground, press my boot lightly to her body, pinning her in place, and draw my bone blade. I hold it at her neck. Her golden eyes lock on me and she doesn’t try to bite me again, as though she can guess what’s to come.

“Don’t,” Reed shouts from the rocks.

“Toss your gun,” I call back.

He throws it, and it clatters to a standstill before Harlie’s shack. Asher inches forward and grabs the weapon.

“Get on your knees,” I tell Reed. “Hands up, toward the gods.”

He does as he’s told, and Asher and Harlie approach slowly. After a bit of careful maneuvering, Reed’s hands are bound. They tear off his mask and drag him from the outcropping, dumping him before me. His bound hands are pressed together before his heart, almost as if he were praying.

“I can explain,” he says. “Just don’t hurt Rune.”